Jailhouse Blues
by EyesofGray
Summary: He was in a maximum security prison for the clinically insane and she was the only psychiatrist he hadn't managed to run off. What happens when the truth comes out? He isn't the man responsible for the heinous crime...or is he?
1. Chapter 1

He was having that dream again. That same reoccurring dream that haunted him night after night, chose to plague him once more. The screams were more profound this time; the colors more vibrant. He relived those events every night, so why wasn't he used to it by now?

He was allowed a moment to catch his breath after waking, before he heard the man in the cell next to his stir.

"Vash," The man in question didn't turn to look at his friend. He knew what he was going to say. He needed to control his breathing, so he would be ready to answer. Slowly, inhale. Exhale.

"You were screaming again. Are you okay?"

There was a pause, as the concerned voice trailed off, waiting for a reply.

"Fine, Wolfwood," Vash finally managed, his voice not wavering. "Go back to sleep."

He heard his friend sigh, knowing he didn't plan on sleeping anymore. He wouldn't sleep because Vash wouldn't sleep. The light next to Wolfwood's bed flickered to life and Vash listened as the rusty springs in the bed croaked under the priest's weight.

"Well," Wolfwood began, reaching under his mattress for the small pack of cigarettes he kept hidden. It was a nasty habit, but one he was unwilling to break. If he was on death row, why care about something so far off as cancer? "I know you don't like to talk about your dreams with anyone other than her, but I'll play the noble friend and ask anyway. Wanna talk about it?"

Vash stared up at the cement ceiling. No, it wasn't cement. The cement was there to create an illusion. Above it was ten inches of impenetrable titanium. How did he know? He was the reason it was there.

"I'm fine," Vash answered quietly. He broke his trance, his eyes tearing from the ceiling as he forced himself to sit up. He inhaled deeply, the scent of the old cigarettes burning his throat, but he welcomed the pain. It was a small distraction from the agony he was weighed so heavily with.

"When will you have another session with the witch?" Though his tone was joking, Vash still sent his friend a glare. Wolfwood didn't understand why Vash was so defensive when it came to his doctor. Maybe it was because she was the only one that had really seemed to care what he thought? She listened to him.

Wolfwood flicked the ash off his cancer stick, before rolling his eyes. "She's not your friend, Vash, she's your doctor. Not to mention, she's the worst kind of doctor too. A shrink."

Vash stood up, walking to the small sink in the corner of his cage to wash his face. He knew Wolfwood didn't like Meryl, but the reason why was because she didn't like him. It was childish really, the way they shot insults back and forth at each other each time she came for one of his sessions. Vash knew the truth though. Meryl had confessed to not liking his smoking, not Wolfwood personally.

"You shouldn't talk about her like that."

Wolfwood sighed and an uneasy silence passed between them.

"She comes tomorrow morning, after breakfast."

Wolfwood nodded, leaning his head back against the wall as he took another drag from his cigarette. While Wolfwood didn't care for the doctor, he knew she had been more help to Vash than he had ever been. Vash talked to her about things he didn't talk about with anyone else. He also knew that Vash needed that time with her. The priest had a sneaking suspicion that their lovely doctor needed her time with Vash as well.

"Perfect timing then, yeah? They've been bad this week."

Vash shrugged. They all held the same intensity to him. When he wasn't dreaming, he was thinking. Sometimes, his thoughts were worse than the dream world his subconscious created.

"Well, it's three in the morning and we've got some time before breakfast," the priest said jokingly, his teeth flashing white under the dim, yellow light. "How about a round of gin?"

Vash glanced over his shoulder, seeing his old friend waving a deck of cards. He smirked.

"You're on."

Breakfast would consist of half of a cream cheese bagel and a vinti cup of Starbucks 'best double shot espresso coffee. It was the perfect way to start any day, but perfection had a price. Today that price was eight fifty nine.

Sighing, Meryl reached into her purse and handed over her debit card to the smiling cashier. The young female doctor watched with envy as the cashier swiped her card while giggling at something the teenage boy beside her said. How could anyone flirt at such a God-awful hour?

Meryl allowed her eyes to wander as she waited for her card to process, but they didn't make it far. Gray eyes quickly stopped, hovering over something behind the glass of the display window.

"Miss?" Meryl blinked, her attention directed back to the petite woman behind the counter. The grin that split the doctor's lips would have put the Cheshire cat to shame.

"Those," she replied, motioning to the display window. "I want four."

Four of the requested item was placed in a white paper doggy bag and Meryl's card was swiped again before she headed out the door. It was cold today, but cold was something Meryl could handle. Snow on the other hand was a matter entirely different.

It was half past nine already. She was running late. Should she call ahead?

"Oh, stop wasting time, Meryl and get a move on!" She told herself. Nodding, the doctor made for her red jaguar that was parked not far from the café. She quickly found her key ring, and mashed the unlock button. Silver lights flickered, calling it's owner closer with a seductive gleam. A sigh of appreciation past her lips as she slowly ran her hand over the smooth body of the car. This was her pride and joy.

Breaking her trance, Meryl pulled open the door and strapped herself in the vehicle. Adjusting her mirror, she made a mental note not to allow any more distractions to interfere with her getting to work.

It was a twenty minute drive off shore to the high security prison, but Meryl had made the trip once a week for the past year. An exact year to this day.

One full year. Twelve months. Three hundred sixty-five days. Fifty-two weeks. 525,600 minutes.

That was how long she had known him.

How long had it taken her to fall in love with him?

The holding facility was a massive building, with high cement walls, preventing anyone from seeing over them. It was mainly there to keep criminals locked inside, but Meryl knew it was also in place to keep the media out. They were anything, but kind to their prisoners.

Four watch towers rose proudly from the corners of the walls surrounding the prison, each holding two snipers with QBU-88 [_Type_ 88] _sniper rifles. They_ rotated every six hours. The switch took exactly six minutes.

Meryl let her eyes drop from the towers, and let her eyes fix on the officer approaching her car. She flashed her identification badge and waited as he signaled for the gate to open. Her car was only allowed within a certain distance of the facility, so she was soon stopped and asked to get out.

She calmly gathered her briefcase, which contained the majority of her patient's files , and the doggy bag. She was asked to remove all metal, and then frisked by Jen, a female officer who had come to know her well.

"Working, again?" Jen asked, checking the pockets of Meryl's jeans. The doctor smirked.

"What do you mean? This is a pleasure trip."

"I see," Jen mused, patting down her legs. "Mixing business with pleasure? And I thought higher of you, Meryl."

The doctor scoffed, her hands going to her hips as Jen stood and motioned for another officer to escort her out. "I never mix business with pleasure," Meryl defended, but she knew the blue suit was only teasing.

"See yah on the way out, Doc," Jen called, and Meryl waved over her shoulder to the female officer.

The walk to the review room was easy, anticipated and Meryl never had trouble making the trip. It was after her session with her patient that she found difficult.

The officer, with a cool expression, opened the door to the review room. The walls were painted a pasty white. White was a safe color. Neutral to the mind. To Meryl, it was empty.

She sat down in the chair at the table in the middle of the room. The door was shut and Meryl didn't even glance up. She knew that the next time it opened, she'd have a reason to look.

Reaching into her briefcase, she pulled out the faded yellow file. It was thick, but worn. This was his file. She had spent many sleepless nights looking through it, shuffling through old pictures and shifting through charts. It didn't matter how long she spent looking at them, the information never added up.

Just who was this man she had spent the past year speaking to?

He had no records prior to the crime he was charged with. To the government he didn't even exist! There was no social security number, dental records, finger prints, or family members that would give some indication to who he was.

He was listed as unknown.

The titanium door was unlocked and Meryl stood, her hands twisting nervously in front of her as she waited for it to be pushed open. Biting her lower lip, Meryl fixed her eyes on the white door, holding her breath when it drifted open.

He stood in the door frame, his lean, muscular body clothed in a white wife beater and orange jumper. His hands were cuffed in front of him and two long chains ran to the cuffs on his ankles too. She hated seeing him in chains, but he was in a high security prison. In fact, he was on maximum security watch.

Gray eyes sparkled with delight as they met piercing blue eyes.

Not just blue, but Caribbean blue. His eyes were blue like the Caribbean on a hot summer day. Warm, glittering, and…inviting.

She opened her mouth to voice his name, but he beat her to it, instead calling her own instead. Her heart jumped in her chest and then hammered heavily against her breast bone as she waited for him to continue.

"Meryl," he said smoothly, his lips savoring the taste of her name as if it were a delicate gourmet dessert.

"Yes, Vash?" Her voice was breathy, but she couldn't help it when his eyes swept up and down her body, searching for something. Her fingers twitched nervously awaiting his words.

"Meryl, you're late."


	2. Chapter 2

Meryl had never been late before, so when she was, Vash couldn't help but get a little nervous. His doctor was punctual, never canceling an appointment or making excuses to not see him.

"Maybe she got pulled over?" Wolfwood suggested while absently flipping through his small, black, leather bound Bible. It was almost nine thirty, the usual time in which the priest decided to meditate on the Word. "She seems like the type to speed. Or," he continued, sitting up a bit on his cot. "She could have been involved in a wreck!"

The thought settled heavy on the convict's mind. The priest could have very well been right. If that was the case, Vash had no way of getting to her to see if she was alright. What if she was in the hospital? What if she had been mugged? What if-?

Did he care that much?

He did. He cared for all human's well being. He wished nor misfortune on anyone.

Why did he care?

That question left him paralyzed and speechless. He didn't have an answer.

Vash ran hand through his hair, not comforted by his friend's words. He didn't know anything about how well Meryl drove, but he didn't see her as the speeding type. Still, he didn't want to think about her being in a wreck.

He needed to move.

Standing, he began to pace the small floor of his cell, until Wolfwood spoke again.

"I'm sure she's fine, Vash. That woman is too stubborn to let anything happen to her."

Vash had to smirk. That was true. Meryl was many things, including strong willed. At times, she could be hard-headed too and as stubborn as a mule. While those characteristics sounded anything but charming, Vash found them to be.

"Hey, Stampede, your doctor is here."

Vash stopped, relief visible on his face as he was instructed to move to the far wall of his cell. She was here. Maybe it was something minor like car trouble. Maybe she couldn't find her keys.

"Hands against the wall." Vash didn't recognize this officer. Maybe he was new? Must have been. All of the other security officers new Vash well enough to just ask him to turn around for them to cuff him. Vash shrugged and did as asked.

The officer closed in on him, roughly grabbing his hands and clamping on the cuffs.

"Hey, is that hostility necessary," He whined, but the officer only snorted in reply.

"Alright, you're set. March, Typhoon."

Vash began his march, nodding to Wolfwood, who gave a mock salute as he departed. He really shouldn't have gotten so worked up. Wolfwood normally had a good sense about things, so he should probably trust the guy more.

"How long has she been here?" Vash asked, not bothering to look at the man who was currently escorting him to his session with his doctor.

"You can ask her when you see her," Came the stiff reply.

Asshole.

The rest of the walk was boring and Vash didn't expect the man to say anything else, so he occupied his time with guessing what color shirt Meryl was wearing. He pictured her in many colors, green being his favorite, he chose to keep her in that. Normally, Meryl would dress in a black skirt and white blouse, but on occasion, she would turn up in jeans.

He liked that look better.

They stopped at the familiar white door and Vash inhaled deeply, not surprised to find her perfume still in the air. The light fragrance of jasmine wrapped around him, drugging his senses. It was still strong.

This was confirmation that she had just recently arrived.

The door was opened and Vash stepped through, eager to see her. To his delight, she was dressed casual today, wearing dark denim jeans that hugged her hips and legs in all the right places. Her shirts was a simple black shirt that matched the paint on her nails. Black pumps peeked out from under the bell of her jeans and he smirked.

Perfect.

"Meryl," he began, his eyes sweeping up her body once more. He did notice the blush that stained her cheeks. "Meryl, you're late."

For a moment she seemed to be in her own little world, before something clicked and she rolled her eyes. Her hands, which had been clasped in front of her, went to be firmly planted on her shapely hips.

Her lips set in a thin line as she eyed him down.

"Is that the greeting I get? I'll have you know you're the reason I'm late," She informed him with a nod.

He watched as she went to sit down at the chair behind the table, crossing her legs.

"Oh? How did I make you late?" He did love it when she blamed things on him. He found it cute because her reasoning never seemed to make logical sense.

She huffed, her eyes following him as he made to sit down across from her. He watched as she tried to sort out her story in her head; trying to relate how he had made her late to their session. She decided words could wait and pushed the little white bag(which he hadn't noticed until now) in his direction.

He lifted a brow at her before lifting his hands, showing her his cuffs. She sighed and got up from her spot , coming to his side of the table.

"I told them to remove these when I'm here." Her words weren't meant for him to hear, but lots of things Meryl said weren't meant for him to hear. Still he found it nice that she shared his irritation for the chains.

"You know they'd never allow that, Meryl," he whispered as she reached for the bag. She paused, her fingers curling around the paper as she let his words sink in.

"They shouldn't chain you like that. It's not right. I can talk to the director or—"

"What's in the bag? I don't see how you being late is my fault."

She sighed. He always did that when they were talking about something he didn't want to hear. She would allow it this time.

"Donuts," she answered.

He sat up a bit straighter, his eyes lighting with a smile.

"Really? For me?"

She nodded, pulling one out.

"I can't eat them on my own. The chains won't allow me to reach that high." His mouth twisted with irritation, but it quickly returned to a smile. "Meryl, feed me."

Meryl faltered, completely caught off guard by his forward request. Her breathing seemed to catch in her throat and she couldn't seem to remember how to exhale. Her face heated, a delicate pink hue staining her cheeks as her mind raced to think of an answer. He couldn't be serious. It was completely unprofessional for her to feed a patient.

Vash seemed unaware of her flustered state and simply smiled gently at her from across the table. He

rapped his fingers against the table rhythmically as he waited for her reply.

"Please, Meryl? I'm hungry." His lips puckered into a pout and Meryl sighed, not sure if she could deny him his wants. "Please?" He asked again, sounding more pathetic than the last time.

Meryl sighed and pushed up from her chair to move around the table over to his side. It was aggravating how he manipulated her like that, but she supposed it couldn't be helped. She shook her head at him, a slow smile curving her lips as she reached inside the doggy bag for his treat.

"Alright, but we get down to business after this, okay?"

He nodded, his eyes following the movement of her hand as it left the bag and presented a powder doughnut. Meryl broke off a piece and held it in front of his mouth, sprinkles of powder marrying the front of her blouse.

"Okay, open up."

Vash did as requested, opening his mouth as he allowed Meryl to feed him the sugar coated cake. Meryl held her breath as his lips closed around her fingers, drawing them inside the heat of his mouth. She shuddered, pulling them quickly away.

"Good?" She asked, a bit shakily. He nodded, smiling happily as he swallowed and then asked for more. She broke off another piece and again lifted it to his lips.

"How's Wolfwood?" she asked, trying to take her mind off what she was doing. This was insane. She shouldn't be doing something so…intimate with him.

He shot her a bewildered look.

"Um…fine, I guess. Why?"

She shrugged, presenting him another piece, which he again took without realizing his affect. She could hit him for being so dense.

"Just because."

He lifted a brow, not convinced.

"You don't like him though." Meryl rolled her eyes and gave him his last piece, but he caught her elbow before she could remove her hand. "You hate small talk, Meryl," he reminded.

Eyes glued to his, she watched as he finished the piece in his mouth before licking the powder off the tips of her fingers. Meryl inhaled sharply, as his sinful tongue removed the last of the sugar.

This had to stop. Right now.

It wasn't that she didn't want this attention from him…it was that she couldn't have it. Not as his doctor.

"How did you sleep last night? Nightmares again?"

He froze, his eyes lowering from hers until they met the floor.

Yeah, that was a way to ruin the mood. Nice one, Meryl. But it was her intention yes? Then why did she feel so…guilty for mentioning it?

He released her hand and Meryl brought it close to her as she watched him struggle for words.

"I'm not…hungry anymore. Thank you , Meryl."His tone, which had been so warm before, was now cold, distant.

She wanted to apologize, but this was her purpose here, yes? To counsel him…to heal him.

Standing, she moved around to the other side of the table, settling back in. She picked up her pen and started to write.

"Was it one dream?" She knew he hated to talk about his dreams, but he needed too. It was good for him.

"Yes, just one." Came his stoic reply, while his head fell back to rest against the chair.

Meryl nodded, continuing to make notes.

"What were the colors like."

His hands gripped his pants, his knuckles turning white as he answered behind clenched teeth, "Red. Blood red."

She paused in her writing, but tried not to make it noticeable.

He noticed, but continued. "Lots of screaming. It was mostly shapes, sounds—"

"What kind of sounds?"

"Gun shots, broken glass."

"Do you recall any faces?"

For a long time he wouldn't look at her, just kept his eyes up at the ceiling.

"Vash?"

He swallowed, shutting his eyes.

"One face. Only one I remember clearly."

Meryl let her ink flow. "Who?"

Another pause.

He lifted his head, blue eyes full of anger, hate and remorse.

"My brother's face. Knives."

Meryl dropped her pen.


End file.
